Walking With a Ghost
by Cheechmunster
Summary: Charlotte was used to change, She went to France, She served in the war, in the trenches. But will the American Transplant be able to cope with the downstairs life at Downton, and survive her demons. * Some typos are for character affect and accent (cockney)*
1. Chapter 1 London, August 1920

**Prologue: Upper Eastside, Manhattan, New York. September 1918 (Armistice Day)**

The Manhattan streets glowed with orange as the lit streetlamps glowed off the damp cobblestones. It was a happy evening, the war had ended and our boys were coming home. Of course this wouldn't bring back the young souls that died in my arms, the solders starving eating their shoes in the trenches, or give them back their lost limbs and humanity, or stop the shell shock I suffer from every night I close my eyes. But for the rest of New York and America it was a celebratory evening, an evening of renewed hope, an evening for the rebuilding of lives. And I will not lie; I too partook in this celebratory mood. I was giddy and happy; I wrapped my arm around my date, and a tall attractive young man I had grown up with my whole life. Jordan Goldberg, he was sweet, kind, and survived the war unscathed, unlike my brother and I who saw the horrors on the western front first hand. But I pushed that out of my mind and we held each other on our way home. He smelt like tobacco and patchouli and it made me happy. We headed down an alley we used every day since child hood to make our way home. But tonight it ended differently. Tonight was supposed to be a happy night. That night everything changed.

**London, August 1920**

I had been living in London for two years; working at an inn that caters mostly to sea weary Whalers staying for the week or coal miners from the north looking to get some "fresh" air in London. It was an odd job; I was pretty much a housemaid, a cook, and a receptionist all in one since the innkeeper was an older woman and her husband was always in the pub, drinking what small pittance of money they made away week after week. So I was pretty much the only one who was able enough or responsible enough to work this job. But being the only responsible and able bodied employee at an inn that really only catered to usually drunk sailors and miners looking for fresh good time girls, and the odd eloped couple from Cardiff or Swansea, god knows where that is, was getting old and getting old fast. Thus my only option was to leave poor Molly to fend for her own and find my self a better job. It had been about a month since I was searching classifieds for jobs pertaining to well to do homes, when my boss came in,

" Ey, Charlie, take a look at dis" she said as she tossed a small staple-bound women's magazine on the table. It slid across the wooden surface and hit my elbow.

" What's this?" I asked as I wipe the potatoes starch from my hands. Molly heaved her large freckled frame on to the stool across the table. She sighed and cleared her throat,

" I was flicking through this here magazine, and found somthin' you ought to find interestin'" she said with a glint in her eye as her chubby hands reached for a paring knife and a potato, she began to peel the spud, I watched as her hands carefully and skillfully moved around the potatoes form. She looked up and exclaimed, " Well open the damned thing I ain't got all day!" I grab at the magazine with my starchy hands and flip through the thick paper pages till I reached one that was dog-eared. I scanned down the page and saw a classified that was circle in ink, and then starred. I look up at her and she smiles at me.

" Go on give it a look then," she said calmly as she began to peel another potato.

" When I said I wanted a new job I didn't mean immediately," I say worriedly, "I'll stay if you need me Molly." I clench the paper in my hand, a feeling of guilt pours over me. I look up at her, and she glares back at me, " wipe the sad sack look of yah face, deary" she squawked " I don't blame ya for wanting to leave, it's hard for yah 'ere, ure in a different place, working odd job, if I were ya I wud of left a 'ear ago." She smiled a yellowed tooth grin at me " Charlotte, 'Ur like a daughter to me, I love yah, this is better for you." I smooth my short black hair behind my ears and wipe the sweat from my palms. I read the ad,

**_ Lady's maid and Nanny Wanted_**

The ad read. My heart began to pound as I continued. I read the rest aloud to Molly,

" They need a ladies maid and a nanny for a new baby," I read aloud " They pay 6 pounds a month, have living arrangements and are located on a local estate in Hampshire" I say, "This is absolutely perfect, hahaah" I danced round the kitchen, potato in one hand knife in the other. Molly let out a loud startling laugh and I hugged her. "Thank you." I said into her neck. She patted my arms, I looked at her, and her eyes were glossy and wet.

" It was the least I could do for ya, aftah all you've done fer me and my good for nuthin' husband." She smiled at me "Now go down to dat dere general store and call dem already!"


	2. Chapter 2- The Interview

**The Interview**

The trip up to Yorkshire, to interview at Downton took far longer than I would have expected. It was actually two Taxis, two trains, and a hay cart longer to be exact. But it was the first time in two years I've seen some semblance of countryside, to see smoggy buildings turn into sprawling green knolls sparked memories of trips to Upstate when I was a child. It somewhat calmed me; my nerves about my accent or my heritage escaped me for the moments on the train. Watching trees zoom by made me feel less out of place. After the second two hour-long train ride I finally made it to York county in Northern England. I disembarked the train and dragged my trunk and suitcase behind me. The station in Yorkshire was a lot smaller, humbler than the one I left in London. The people still looked busy and impatient but there were far less than them. I took a deep breath and sighed to myself, " Let's go find our selves a cab," I adjusted my cardigan and began to drag my trunk behind me as I work my way through the station. The trunk echoed a loud squeaking sound each time I dragged it on the lacquered wooden floors. As I made my way through I sounded like an odd duck, the shoes I got from Molly, were her sons. He had passed in the war, so she let me borrow an old pair from when he was 14. Though too small for the then six foot tall Patrick they were far too big for me and slapped the floor with a loud clap. Between my  
Clapping shoes and my Squeaking trunk I was quite a sight to the natives in Yorkshire.

I finally made it out to the front of the station and my trunk went from a squeak to a crumble as I made it from wood floors to gravel roads. I was soon noticed by a forty something gentleman. " Let me help you with that, love," he said as he heaved my large trunk over his burly shoulder.

"Oh my gosh, you got it?" I asked amazed at how he heaved it up, and kind of worried, he's the same age as my stepfather. I stood behind him, echoing motion to catch him if he should fall.

" Oh yea Love, I do this all the time!" He smirked, " I'm a taxi driver."

" God blessed me today with your presence" I announce as we make our way to his automobile, " I needed a ride to Downton, and I was sure as hell not going to ride in another hay cart." He laughed a goofy laugh as if I was kidding, but I was serious. A thirty min ride in a hay cart to the nearest and cheapest train station was absolutely no fun.

We loaded everything into the car and began our journey to Downton. I sat in the front because it would be absurd for me to sit in the back, especially when he was so nice to me.

" So where are you from?" He inquired without even looking over.

" London." I answered blankly, He chuckled and looked at me I looked back and stared blankly.

" No, I mean before you came here, where were you born?" He asked between laughs.

"I'm originally from New York."

" What brought across the pond?" He asked then spit out the window. I smiled, I didn't know if I should be honest, that I committed a horrific crime, or that I wanted to get away from the past and all that I new, or if I should lie.

" You know, things and stuff," I say, my brain says, " Wow you sound so intellectual. " then I proceed to mentally kick myself. I continued " I wanted to see the world after the war, I wanted to travel Europe, but by the time I got to London I was broke and got stuck here." I explain as honestly as possible.

" London tends to do that to you, "He chuckled, "I'm guessing you don't come from money then."

I shook my head no, my family was a middle class working family, but we had means. The man who raised my brothers and I was a pediatrician and my mother owned a deli. But I decided that he didn't need to know that.

"Sorry for the interrogation" He announces, after I was silent for a while "I was just curious what brought a good ole Yankee girl to the north, by the way, I'm Stephen." He reaches over with the hand that wasn't on the wheel. I smile, and take his hand with a firm shake.

" I'm Charlotte, the good ole yank!" I say with a sarcastic enthusiasm. The rest of our ride was filled with him telling me everything he knew about his hometown, who owned what and who lived where, etc. I listened, and noticed all the quaint cottages and cobbled roads. It was cute and homey.

The ride lasted about 45 minutes and after that 45 minutes I new everything and everyone in Yorkshire. Finally we had made it to the gravel driveway of Downton. An older couple met us. There was an older woman in a black dated dress, with corset and everything. Next to her stood a straight and tall older gentleman in coat and tails. They stood in front of the drive way as stiff as nails.

"And there's your welcoming committee, " Stephen says as he pulls up to them. Those nerves I mentioned about losing earlier all came back. Their rigid demeanor was nothing to laugh at.

"Can you stay a little while just in case I need a ride? " I ask before I exit the cab. He nods his gray haired chin at me. I smiled in relief.

" Hello, You must be Carlotta? " The woman inquired, "I'm Mrs. Hughes" She sticks her hand out to greet me.

" The one I talked to on the phone "I say feeling my clunky Brooklyn accent fall out of my mouth onto the drive way. I saw the man raise his eyebrows once I opened my mouth. "And actually Carlotta is my birth name but I go by Charlotte."

She smiles " Nice to meet you charlotte." She seems kind, stern but kind. The gentle man turns to me, and stares at me over a hooked nose. He was tall; taller than I expected when I arrived he towered over my 5 foot 3 inches. I can feel him judging me; my navy blue dress, my white cardigan, and my loafers that were far too big for me. I was quite an odd sight. My large green eyes clashed against the boy short black hair I've been donning for the past two years.

" I'm Mr. Carson," He held out his hand attached to a wood stiff arm. I took it and shook, "God I hope my palms weren't sweaty," I thought.

"Follow us," Mrs. Hughes announces, I turn and nod to Stephen, he winked back, and they led me inside. My palms were damp, and my side ached, not for any reason, a phantom ache from years ago. I followed them into the Foyer that was covered with dark wood walls and marble floors. Everything in this house was elegant, European, and old. I'm sure the house it's self is older than the country I called home. That thought made me chuckle.

"It's gorgeous," I blurt out as I follow them down another set of hallways.

" This house has been apart of the Crawley family for centuries "Mrs. Hughes announces, and I can hear the pride in her voice. I smile "How long have you both been here? " I ask, trying to lighten the mood, and build a sense of familiarity.

Carson turns around to me, and scowls "That's no business of yours young miss." He announces. The feeling of rejection makes my anxiety worsen. We Finally made it to the servant's quarter that was at a back door down a small flight of stairs. You could tell we had left the main house because the floors went from shiny marble to dull wood and stone.

We make our way single file down the corridor to a dark wood door. Mr. Carson unlocks it and we follow him inside. The room was small and dark, maybe 8x6 but definitely no more than that. Mr. Carson lit a small oil lamp on the desk and Mrs. Hughes brought and extra chair. She sat two his right, like the queen of the downstairs to his king. And I sat a cross from them, feeling like a child in a principle's office.

" Alright Let's begin" Mrs. Hughes announces as she shuffles a hand full of papers. "So your birth name is Carlotta Louise Santiago?"

" Yes I answer, but it was changed when I was 7, it's actually Charlotte Bernstein." I reply, all the while digging my nails into my palm. I take a deep breath.

" And Where are you from?" Carson adds.

" I was originally born on a farm in Amarillo, Texas. My mother had me at 18 and my birth father was a cowboy from the Chihuahua Province of Mexico, but I left at about 6 I grew up in Brooklyn, New York." Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes look at each other.

" So you're Mexican? Re you catholic?" Mr. Carson asks, " Do you speak Spanish?" /he adds.

I smile, "No sir, I've never needed to learn Spanish so I don't speak it, and not sir, I am not a catholic, but I was raised a Jew, I hope that doesn't bother you?" I ask tentatively " But I am pretty much secular," I add matter of factly. The look at each other and exhale.

"Whew, that's a relief," Mr. Carson says under his breath.

" I'm sorry sir I don't under stand? " I announce as my heart pounds, will I loose this job because I'm a Mexican Jew or is it because I'm a New Yorker. He smirks, " The Gentleman you will be helping with his child, Mr. Tom Branson, is an Irish catholic, and quite a radical one. You'd be spending a lot of time with him and his young child so a positive influence would be a well needed addition." I nod in agreement but I'm actually quite confused.

"It also says here that you served in the war?" Mrs. Hughes continued. My heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath, "positive thoughts " I thought to myself, "think positive."

"Yes mam, I served 1914-1916, until I was honorably discharged after an injury in the field. I served as an on field nurse." Mr. Carson looked at me puzzled. "Oh no, not for the Americans, my older brother and I had the bright idea that we should sign up for a war that we weren't even sure what it as for so we went to Canada and got sent to France. I served as a nurse under commander Pierre "

" How'd you both fair?" Mrs. Hughes asked/

" I saw people die, friends, comrades, you know we all lost someone." They both nod, "But I fared better than my brother, he lost his leg and half of his hearing." They both frowned, I crumpled my dress in my hand and I try to push back the memories. I smiled " We all did what we had to do." The smile backs, and look at each other. Mrs. Hughes whispers to Mr. Carson, and he nods.

" Alright Deary," she began, " you're going t have two important jobs, you will first be the Lady maid to Lady Edith the Second Daughter of the Earl," She pauses and I nod in agreement, "then you'll be nanny and assistant to Mr. Branson and his Daughter Little Miss Sybil." I nod. " One question," I ask, " what happened to Mr. Branson's wife?"

They both look at each other, sorrow washes over their faces.

" Oh the poor dear, that sweet, sweet girl died in child birth, the baby is only three months old."

I gasp," How old was she?" I ask tentatively.

" Only a year older than you, 22 years old." I frown, this news makes me incredibly sad, but I feel like they need me as much as I need them at the moment.

"When can I start?" I ask.

" How About now?" Mrs. Hughes asks, and I nod in an eager agreement.

"Welcome to Downton Ms. Charlotte, " Mr. Carson adds with a shake of my hand and finally a warm smile.


End file.
